


selective memory

by spock



Category: Star Wars Original Trilogy
Genre: Domestic, Established Relationship, Extra Treat, Families of Choice, Force Ghosts, Gay Robots, Gen, Memory Related, Mild Hurt/Comfort, Post-Movie(s), Robot Feels, Robot/Human Relationships, Unreliable Narrator
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2015-10-30
Updated: 2015-10-30
Packaged: 2018-04-26 07:40:26
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,266
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/4996000
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/spock/pseuds/spock
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>The corruption of data does not always lead to loss.</p>
            </blockquote>





	selective memory

**Author's Note:**

  * For [possibilityleft](https://archiveofourown.org/users/possibilityleft/gifts).



Threepio totters around the inner perimeter of his master's home, checking that the windows are properly latched and that everything is in its intended spot. There are times when Threepio believes the house to be too barren, almost depressingly so, but he keeps such thoughts to himself now, having learned his lesson a few months prior when he had finally brought his concern to Master Luke's attentions. 

The response he was given hadn't been practically to his taste; his master had laughed and urged both Threepio and Artoo to realize that this was their home as well, and said that they were entitled to decorate it as they saw fit. 

A ridiculous proposal, if ever was one. 

Which of course meant that Artoo had taken their master up on his offer, for there is none that Threepio has ever known that appreciated a ridiculous proposal more than said droid with which whom Threepio's fate is tied.

Now, there are times when Artoo returns from his walks — another suggestion from their master, of course, that they might partake in _stretching their legs_ whenever either droid felt as if they'd been indoors for two long, as if Artoo had any legs at all, or that either of them had muscles to atrophy from disuse, or programming that would cause them to become restless, besides — with strange items he's found, and of course he will hand them to Threepio, who must then find an appropriate spot for them to go.

A commotion from the just alongside the residence causes Threepio to pause in his cleaning. He steps tentatively towards the kitchen, peering out towards the back door, and feels a great shock overtake him. A man has entered the house, one he has not seen in some time, with bronzed hair just long enough to curl about his neck, face gaunt. 

"Anakin," Threepio says, and in his surprise forgets to address his previous master with a title that is his due. "Goodness gracious me! Oh, if only you had sent word ahead, I would have turned out the spare room for you. Just a moment!" 

He turns to do just that, when Master Luke says, trepidation coloring his voice, "Threepio?" 

Threepio turns back around and sees his master standing just where Anakin had stood, Luke's hair just long enough to curl at his neck, the blond of it tinted bronze in the setting light of the planet's suns. "I'm," Threepio says, glancing around in confusion. "I'm sorry Master Luke, I'm not sure what came over me. I could have sworn I saw Master Anakin just now."

His master smiles at Threepio kindly. "Might just be that I'm starting to take after him more as I age? You think these cheeks will finally retire themselves, or no?" It's a recent development, him being able to smile, however wanly, at the mention of his father's name. The same cannot be said for when Anakin is addressed as Lord Vader, but Threepio would never dare. 

Artoo comes out from the back of the house, beeping and clicking his thoughts on their master's face. Artoo thinks that his cheeks will only get worse with age, not better. "That's hardly a kind thing to say," Threepio admonishes. Artoo always refers to Master Anakin as Lord Vader. Threepio is forever grateful that their master can only understand the other in limited quantities. 

"Oh boy," Master Luke says, sitting himself down at the table. Threepio takes that as his cue and shuffles off to the counter to fix him a cup of tea before he turns in for the night. "Do I even want to know?"

"I think that you are perfectly handsome, Master Luke." 

All biological creatures look strange to him, in all truth, but as humanoid-shaped droid himself, Threepio likes to think his opinion on such matters holds weight. Master Luke may look strange, but he pulls the look off very well. Much better than _others_ he could name, with the dignity his station demands. He'd tell them both as much, but he has been with Master Luke and Artoo long enough to know that such sentiment would result in Threepio being teased, so he doesn't. 

Laughter from the corner of the room draws his attention and Threepio turns, afraid that he did indeed speak his thoughts aloud, and it's there that he sees Anakin again, leaning against the wall and shaking his head, wide grin split across his face. 

" _Threepio_." His master's tone is stern, which means this wasn't the first time that he has said Threepio's name, but merely the first time Threepio has registered it. Artoo runs into his leg, as if to punctuate their master's call. 

Threepio bends himself in half and checks to make sure Artoo's collision with him didn't dent either of their exteriors. "My apologies. I'm not quite sure whatever is the matter with me this evening."

Master Luke stands and takes the cup Threepio has prepared for him, resting a hand on Threepio's shoulder. "Well, have Artoo look at you tonight, alright?" To Artoo he says, "Let me know if any wires or parts have gone bad; I'll fix whatever it is myself." Artoo clicks his agreeance and the two of them follow their master out of the kitchen, Threepio shutting off the lights behind them. 

Artoo and he share a room, though there is no logical reason for them to have one in the first place, for they do not sleep, nor do they have any real possessions, no matter how much both Artoo and Master Luke keep trying to change that. 

The majority of the items Artoo brings home end up in their room, Threepio unwilling to let them clutter the rest of the house, Artoo refusing to let Threepio toss them away. There is but one item that is actually Threepio's, a low-sitting stool, which is what he brings himself down to rest on, so that Artoo can examine him. 

Threepio expects Artoo to set about his work promptly. It's an expectation he should long have given up on, but he is nothing if not a droid full of hope, no matter what any might have to say about him to contest otherwise. Instead of doing just that, however, Artoo rolls forward gently and brings the uppermost crest of his head into contact with Threepio's own, their version of an embrace. "I am sure that I am alright, dear friend," Threepio promises. "Although there is a very simple way that you can make sure of it yourself."

Artoo whirrs in annoyance and extends one of his apparatuses to begin the examination. Neither of them speak as it is conducted; Artoo because he is the one focusing on his task and Threepio because Anakin has manifested himself again, sitting in front of Threepio this time, also on the floor, the soles of his feet pressed against the bottom of Threepio's, Anakin moving both of them around with his own, as he was often wont to do, back when he was a child. 

A few beeps and Artoo says that the diagnostic checks are finished. He's got a clean bill of health, although, Artoo says, that doesn't mean anything. He's suspected that there's always been _something_ wrong with Threepio since the day that he was activated, fussy bastard that he is. Threepio ignores the baited insult.

"I'm glad," he says instead, raising his hand to touch Artoo at his side, eyes still focused on Anakin, and how he's smiling at the two of them. "I rather think that I wouldn't want to be fixed, anyhow."


End file.
